But wait, there’s more! You didn’t think I would leave out all the intimate details of our honeymoon, did you?

It was inexplicably wonderful to vacation in Maui with a big group of family and friends — we pretty much took over the resort! We couldn’t walk from one end to the other without running into at least a handful of people we know — but we were glad that we opted to honeymoon on another island altogether. The sheer exhaustion of all that socializing (and almost two years of, for me, planning, and for Rob, worrying) hit us like a ton of bricks, which seemed apropos given that we were vacationing on an island completely covered in rock.

With several active volcanoes spotting the terrain, the Big Island feels more like the moon than a tropical paradise. You can drive for an hour and scarcely see another soul, let alone a shrub. A thin haze (or vog, as they insist on calling it) hangs in the air, giving the days a dreamlike quality and making the nights almost frighteningly dark. And there is lava everywhere.

The landscape is absolutely breathtaking and unlike anything I have ever seen. I’m not one to cry at a pretty sunset, but something about setting foot on earth that was only just created 20 years ago gives me goosebumps. It feels like the end of the world, and the beginning, all at the same time.

On a drive through Kilauea national park, home of the most active volcano, the road comes to an abrupt stop because, just several dozen years ago, lava flowed over it. How ridiculous is that?

The whole “active volcano” thing made Rob a bit nervous. Here he is on our way up the mountain, preparing to put the top back on our sweet white Chrysler Sebring convertible, when the weather abruptly changed.

And here he is as we passed a sign that warned us to roll up our windows, as the emissions from the volcano contained sulphur and were unsafe to breathe. I, of course, insisted on rolling them back down to take a picture.

Rob was having none of it.

The entire vacation, he worried that the volcano was about to erupt and we’d all be swept into the ocean to our certain deaths. I made fun of him, naturally. They can predict when the volcano is going to erupt, they wouldn’t let tourists in dangerous places, this is America, blah blah blah.

But no sooner do we get home than the the Big Island’s name was splashed across headlines:

Huge Fountain of Lava Gushes From Kilauea Volcano in Hawaii
Kilauea volcano magma meets ocean with 100-foot lava burst
Scientists scratch heads at unpredicted eruption, should have listened to paranoid tourist

Yes, that’s right. Our honeymoon spot was ablaze.

The flight home was obscene. Do not, under any circumstances, fly United Airlines to Hawaii. Here is Rob, in the teeny-tiny, seven-gate, outdoor, cockroach-infested, Greyhound-station-esque airport, on hour three of our 30-hour delay, making the most of the mandatory down-time by billing some hours.

And here I am, on hour 29.

Caption: I hate it

Finally, for what amounted to (or at least felt like) three days without sleep, we were back in Chicago. And just in the nick of time for wedding numbers two and three!

It is not a good idea to move one month before you get married.

It is not a good idea to forget that you don’t own a swimsuit until exactly one week before you leave for your wedding in Hawaii.

It is a good idea to start using Crest White Strips seven days before your wedding. I’m three hours in, and already my teeth are so sensitive that even the thought of eating makes them hurt. Which is of some consolation when you are trying on swimsuits in a department store dressing room and wondering why you haven’t felt inspired to start dieting until RIGHT NOW.

It is not a good idea to take even one day off from writing thank-you notes for the multitude of gifts from your registry that arrive on your doorstep each day.

If you would like to single-handedly destroy the environment, I would recommend registering at Williams-Sonoma. The amount of boxes, wrapping paper, and bubble wrap used for each shipment is staggering. The sheer volume of packing peanuts alone is enough to endanger at least three species. More often than not, a huge box will yield the tiniest item, but you have to actually break a sweat to get to it. It’s like those Russian nesting dolls. Seriously:

Today’s delivery, weighing 13.3 pounds and measuring 19 by 19 by 18 inches

was full of mostly packing peanuts

and a big white box (which was wrapped, but I forgot to take a picture first)

Inside the big white box were three smaller boxes (and some more packing peanuts)

And inside THOSE boxes was a lot of bubble wrap.

And nestled inside the bubble wrap there were four salad plates, four bread plates, and four pasta bowls.

Elapsed time: 23 minutes, most of which was spent trying to corral the packing peanuts, which go flying in every direction, which makes the dog want to eat them even more.

The big picture:

And just when I’m starting to get half a mind to call Williams-Sonoma and complain about their packaging materials, I spot a notice printed on one of the boxes:

Now there is just no way in hell I’m making a special trip for all these flipping packing peanuts. Rob already complains that I have two garbage cans in the house (one for garbage, one for recycling) and that I want him to help me load up the car with the absurd amount of cardboard boxes we have accumulated between moving and getting married so I can take them to the recycling facility, because Chicago STILL DOESN’T RECYCLE.

So yeah. That’s what I’ve been up to for the past month. Unpacking boxes.

We’re getting married in TEN DAYS!

Rob just read this and said, “I think I got the wet feet.”

Our landlord in Nashville has begun showing our house to potential tenants. We are driving up to Chicago next week to find a place to live, but if our previous house-hunting experiences are any indication, it takes us an average of 4.5 months of serious looking to find a place that is remotely acceptable for our over-anxious, hyper-critical, penny-pinching personalities. And that does not include the eight-month lead time during which I pore obsessively over the online classifieds.

Did I mention that, this time next month, we will be leaving for Hawaii? Between preparing for the wedding and the two (count ‘em) at-home receptions that follow (it’s our very own Nuptial Triple Crown!), we are more or less out of commission for six weeks.

That leaves us about 26 days (and 11 hours, 18 minutes, and nine seconds) to find, tour, finance, inspect, and close on a condo in the city. Not to mention we have to come up with a down payment while also paying for a wedding and honeymoon.

We are about to be homeless.

To top things off, Rob has decided that he wants to spend about half as much on a mortgage than would any reasonable person in our exact same financial situation. It’s all part of his Master Plan to retire by 40 with 20 million dollars in the bank. I’m not overly clear on the details, even though he and Andy have been fine-tuning the Plan for years, but from what I can gather it involves Sara not buying any fine Italian leather goods while living in Italy and me living in a cardboard box under the highway at North Avenue with my fluffy, fluffy white dog.

Of course, he insists on finding this “affordable housing” while not conceding things like central air, newer construction or remodeling, and proximity to the lake, the gym, the El, and a 24-hour Starbucks and Walgreen’s. Oh, and it can’t be in an elevator building, either. Too claustrophobic.

I can see myself with the stringy hair and ruddy complexion already. Maybe I’ll acquire a limp and a cardboard sign with details about my imaginary tour in Vietnam.

Rob’s latest solution: Roger’s Park, the northernmost Chicago neighborhood along the lake, just south of Evanston. Did you know you can buy a three-bedroom walk-up condo with all the bells and whistles for under $200,000? Heck, you can buy a ginormous single-family home for about twice that!

(Note to Chicago virgins: I know it sounds absurd, but that is an insanely good deal.)

So we did a little research and learned from the neighborhood’s website that RoPa is an eclectic and vibrant community, a place where people of diverse economic and cultural backgrounds can live in happy harmony, practically frolicking between their well-priced vintage homes.

Too good to be true? Perhaps, but there’s nothing like a little hope to get you in the mood for packing your bags, even when you practically just finished UN-packing from the last move. Then I stumbled across some less-than-reassuring blogs about Roger’s Park.

Like the one solely devoted to photos of abandoned Cheetos bags found in the neighborhood. That’s right. There are enough discarded bags of Cheetos in RoPa to warrant an entire blog.

Or this one that detailed the police scanner from just two hours on the night of Monday, May 2. Here’s an abridged version that includes only the violent crimes (no noise complaints or parking violations):

11:30 PM – Shots fired, 1200 block N. Campbell – “gang”
11:47 PM – Man with a gun walking around at 47th and Ashland
11:50 PM – Person shot, 1800 block N. California, police looking for “two male Hispanics”
11:51 PM – Man has a gun, 1800 block N. Kedzie
11:54 PM – Dispatcher says there is a “wolf or coyote” spotted at Clybourn and Fullerton. Cops on radio enjoy this. “Can we shoot?” “Tranquilizer darts.” “Come on, it’s only a wolf, you don’t have to shoot it.” “Can we shoot?” “Wolves are endangered.”
12:02 AM – Officer arranges for “removal” of a dead 19 year old female, gunshot to the head, from the ER of South Shore Hospital.
12:05 AM – Man “masturbating in the park.”
12:08 AM – Man with a gun threatened to shoot the caller on 5500 block W. Diversey, caller says he is now walking back toward him.
12:09 AM – Person down, 1400 block W. Farragut Avenue.
12:11 AM – Need evidence technician (ET) to photograph “the victim,” who is in critical condition at Mt. Sinai Hospital.
12:12 AM – Persons waving guns at 53rd and Ashland. They are driving a white Pontiac Bonneville. Reported by people who waved down a police officer.
12:20 AM – Shots fired, 1300 block of (unintelligible).
12:28 AM – ET requested in 10th District to photograph a victim, a “26 year old male black.” One of the perpetrators is in custody.
12:31 AM – Van hit a female “on the expressway” near 1800 block of N. Ashland. Illinois State Police are investigating.
12:34 AM – Two female Hispanics flashed a gun at Ohio and Ashland, then drove eastward. Purple car – another officer calls in that car is seen going northbound on Ashland, chase ensues. “Approaching Augusta…” Moments go by; “Stopped them in 1000 block of N. Ashland. “Request a female officer for a search.”
12:38 AM – Requesting backup for large fight at a house, 800 block of Sacramento.
12:42 AM – Cop radios from house fight, “disregard”
12:42 AM – Person with a gun, somebody’s girlfriend driving dark red or maroon Pontiac with Texas plates. “They’re still in the area” (13th, 14th Districts). Search ensues. Cop on radio, “That car’s been up in this area all night, by Potomac and (unintelligible), was in the are when those shots were fired.”
12:44 AM – (Responding to above) “We stopped that car earlier… We’ll get those plates to you…”
12:47 AM – Person shot, Belmont and (?)
12:47 AM – “We’ve rounded everybody up at (2900 block, Devon).”
12:48 AM – Assault, victim being followed by assailant in 7000 block, N. California. “No further info.”
12:54 AM – “You can cancel that ambulance.”
12:55 AM – Officer reports that a victim is “stable, gunshot wound to the right arm,” ET requested to photograph a silver Ford Taurus. Nobody in custody in the 11th District.
12:59 AM – 5800 block, N. Magnolia – 30 kids fighting out front.
1:05 AM – “Everybody’s dispersed” from fight on Magnolia.
1:04 AM – Robbery; two male blacks, 300 block E. Garfield on Green Line CTA train, took two cell phones and $60.00 cash.
1:14 AM – 8500 block, Marquette; breaking into house, man banging on windows and doors.
1:22 AM – “Shots fired.” “MORE SHOTS!” at Spaulding and Kimball.
1:26 AM – “Subjects ran south from Evergreen.”
1:38 AM – Male posing as a cop, 4400 block, S. ???.
1:39 AM – Westbound SUV on Division, people throwing beer cans as they drive.
1:42 AM – Male Hispanic walking with a gun, 47th and Troupe.
1:42 AM – 50 people fighting on street, 16th and Karlov, throwing bottles at police.

You know something? That cardboard box is looking better and better. Wait, wait, how does that song go? “Young man, there’s a place you can go …”